


Cakes and Clichés

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Other, winter 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: 'Half the students in the class sort out their classroom while the rest toil in the kitchens, preparing various foods. Cakes. Treats. Southern fried chicken that had to be bought a month in advance. The door to the kitchen area opens, and Sayaka and Mukuro walk out together, both carrying a large platter between them.'Mukuro and Sayaka transport a cake together.
Relationships: Ikusaba Mukuro/Maizono Sayaka
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Cakes and Clichés

Bits of paper pepper the wooden flooring of the classroom, much to Kiyotaka’s chagrin. It trails down aisles between desks and piles around furniture, especially those belonging to certain students. Kiyotaka marches through the paper shreds to one of the desks, his chin held high.

“Don’t forget to recycle when you clean up your mess!” Kiyotaka pipes up, angling the metal can in his arms toward Leon. The object resembles an ordinary trash can but bears a label that has ‘paper recycling’ written on it, both in Japanese and English text, courtesy of Yasuhiro.

Leon props his arm on the back of his chair and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll pick them up after.”

What he means by ‘after’ isn’t immediately clear. It could refer to when he has finished cutting out this snowflake, or all of the snowflakes, or after the snowflakes have been hung up alongside the other handmade decorations. Or it could mean after the whole classroom has been made festive, or even after the class returns from winter break.

Kiyotaka’s lips compress as he regards Leon, who brandishes the scissors and snips at another piece of paper. Flecks of white sway on their descent to his desk and the floor, joining the rest of the excess paper, and Kiyotaka’s features harden further.

“If it bothers you so much, perhaps you could clear it up?” suggests Celes, who had been assigned the task of drawing some Christmas pictures with Hifumi. She sits at an adjacent desk to him, occasionally glancing at the large piece of paper Hifumi pores over while her hands stay neatly folded on her lap the entire time.

“It will just refill while we’re working,” Kyouko points out next to the Christmas tree. Nearby, Chihiro sits on Mondo’s shoulders, holding a bauble that Kyouko passed to them that is yet to be given its place on the tree.

That seems to be the same thought Kiyotaka comes to, because he folds his arms over his chest and pouts.

Everyone in the class has a role to play in the run-up to Christmas, an idea started by Makoto that soon spread to the others. By now, most of the work has been done, with just a few bits and pieces left to do in the classroom. With Kiyotaka acting as supervisor there, different jobs apart from the usual decorating involve putting up lights, organising Secret Santas and compiling playlists.

Half the students in the class sort out their classroom while the rest toil in the kitchens, preparing various foods. Cakes. Treats. Southern fried chicken that had to be bought a month in advance. The door to the kitchen area opens, and Sayaka and Mukuro walk out together, both carrying a large platter between them.

Sitting on the silver dish is a Christmas cake, snow white and topped with strawberries.

“Phew! Togami-kun can sure be very intense, can’t he?” chirps Sayaka, her hair tied into a ponytail.

For a guy who gives no impression that he has ever set foot in a kitchen before this season, Byakuya sure did have a lot of confidence belting out orders and pointing his finger at everyone and everything. Mukuro nods, focused on their footing. All it would take is a careless student to barge into the two of them, and their mission would be a failure. Cake would be on the ground. Ruined.

Therefore, they have to remain alert. Hyper aware of their surroundings. As if to reaffirm this point, at that moment, someone skids around the corner at the other end of the corridor, practically on all fours. 

Akane Owari.

Sayaka widens her eyes and before either of them can dodge, Akane hurtles toward them. Her eyes look past the cake, at the door that had let out a waft of cooked goods. 

As Akane rockets past, Sayaka overbalances, and the metal dish begins to flip.

Mukuro springs into action. Their grip twists and in one fell swoop, they have the dish perched on one hand, cake intact, and their other arm around Sayaka’s slanted backward body. Her face hangs just beneath Mukuro’s, their lips almost touching.

The world stops for a few seconds that feel like minutes.

“T-Thank you,” Sayaka manages first. She shifts slowly. Mukuro backs up and watches Sayaka straighten and brush off her skirt. Their eyes linger on Sayaka’s thighs until they realise and drag their gaze up.

“No problem,” mumbles Mukuro. They position the dish in front of themselves, placing their other hand beneath it so they carry it in both hands.

“It’s no problem thanks to you,” replies Sayaka, tilting her head to one side. “If you hadn’t acted so quickly, the cake would have ended up on the floor.”

Then Sayaka has the audacity to look at Mukuro with that cute face of hers, brow creased, big smile. Mukuro’s cheeks burn.

“W-We should get a move on,” says Mukuro. They clear their throat - away from the cake, of course - and take one step forward.

Sayaka reaches a hand toward them and leans in. “Hang on! You’ve got some icing on your cheek.”

Mukuro turns their head and opens their mouth, about to speak, and freezes as Sayaka casually wipes her finger across Mukuro’s cheek. With a grin, Sayaka withdraws her hand and gives the tip of her finger a lick.

“There,” she says. “Perfect.”

The connection between Mukuro’s brain and mouth detaches, and they just stare, open-mouthed. Sayaka squirms and flutters and takes an end of the dish, and once she starts trudging onward, Mukuro follows suit.

Fortunately, the cake is still in one piece when they arrive at their classroom, and Mukuro opens the door before reversing inside.

“Mistletoe!” shouts Leon. Everyone else in the class whips around. 

Mukuro and Sayaka jump, look at him, then each other, then upward. A sprig of mistletoe hangs over their heads, pinned to the doorframe. The two girls lower their gazes and see the others staring. Waiting.

“Um,” goes Sayaka, blushing, her voice cracking the silence like a foot stepping onto a sheet of ice, “we don’t have to if Ikusaba-san doesn’t...”

A rush of confidence bubbles in Mukuro’s chest, shooting out sparks, and they surge toward Sayaka, planting their lips against Sayaka’s cheek. Sayaka jolts with a gasp and whirls her head around so Mukuro’s lips slide from her cheek to her lips.

She doesn’t pull back. She pushes into Mukuro.

The dish crashes by their feet. Kiyotaka chokes, falling to his knees.

Leon nods at Kiyotaka and says, “I bet you’re glad we didn’t clean up yet, huh?”

Sayaka and Mukuro promise to make another cake for them.


End file.
